“Careful, Jeremiah,” Ranleigh said, his tone cool and heavy with dislike.
Jeremiah blushed.
“You’ve b-brought disgrace to the family name,” he said, stuttering with the force of emotion.
Before Archie could blink, Ranleigh had reached out and grasped hold of Jeremiah’s fanciful cravat, lifting him onto his toes in an effortless manner. Archie felt a little sympathy for the ruining of the fellow’s trone d’amour, knowing just how long it must have taken, but only for a moment.
“I must warn you, Jeremiah. I’m feeling exceedingly well. In rude health, in fact. So, I would choose your next words with a deal of care. I think, perhaps, you meant to congratulate us both on our recent nuptials.”
Ranleigh opened his hand, letting go of the cravat, and his cousin staggered backwards, arms wind milling as he struggled to stay upright.
“Isn’t that correct, Jeremiah?” Ranleigh added, a dangerous note to his voice.
Archie watched as Jeremiah’s trembling hand lifted to his cravat. “Of c-course, Ranleigh. Pleased for you. My felicitations. Now, if you would excuse me….”
The fellow scurried off as passers-by who had witnessed the affair exclaimed and gasped.
“Oh, dear,” Archie said, sighing. “Is it going to be like this everywhere, do you think?”
“Of course not,” Ranleigh said, adjusting his gloves where half strangling his cousin had twisted them a little. “Just for a bit… a year… two… three maybe. We’ll be old news soon enough,” he said with an airy wave of his hand.
“If you say so,” she said, dubious that it would ever die down.
“Ranleigh!”
“Oh, Lord, now what?” Ranleigh cursed, turning to see who’d called this time, and then he grinned.
Archie watched a fashionably attired and rather glamorous group of people moving towards them. At their head strode the Earl of Falmouth, who had attended their wedding. He was a towering man with black hair and cool grey eyes. Beside him, his wife Céleste, a beautiful blonde, held his arm with one hand whilst remonstrating with a red-and-white Spaniel that seemed rather out of control. The little dog lunged forward and tried to take a bite out of Jeremiah’s ankle as he hurried past them.
Archie could only applaud the dog’s taste as Ranleigh’s cousin ran out of the way with a shriek of alarm. He turned back to protest, only to catch sight of a second, even larger man who was walking behind the earl. For once in accord with Bagshot, Archie caught her breath as the fellow was dark and menacing, with a fierce scar tracking down the right side of his face. A sweet-faced young woman held his arm, smiling as they approached.
Ranleigh chuckled, delighted by the scene, and held his hand out to greet the arrivals.
“Alex,” he said, his expression warm as the earl smirked at him. “Lady Falmouth.”
Greetings were exchanged and Archie watched with interest as Alex turned to the hulk in their party. “Ranleigh, duchess, may I introduce my son-in-law, Mr Luther Blackehart and my daughter, Katherine Blackehart?” The earl looked rather pleased and proud at making the introduction as the couple stepped forward.
“Blackehart, Mrs Blackehart,” Ranleigh said. “A pleasure.”
“The pleasure’s mine, your grace,” Blackehart said, his voice deep and pleasantly gruff. “It’s always good to meet someone whose reputation is as scandalous as mine.”
“Scandalous,” Ranleigh agreed affably. “But not half so terrifying.”
Blackehart grinned, a rather daunting expression as it made the scar tug at his eye, pulling it down and giving him a rather devilish appearance. “I don’t eat dukes or children, your grace. I’m much maligned, I assure you.”
Ranleigh gave a startled bark of laughter and Archie chuckled, deciding she liked the fellow. His wife stared up at him, clearly adoring before noticing Archie watching her. She smiled and gave a little shrug.
“We were on our way home,” Alex continued. “Céleste, darling, perhaps you ought to give Bandit to the footman before he breaks your arm?”
Céleste shook her head and smiled fondly at the dog, who was jumping up at everyone and barking, heedless of polished boots and dress hems. “Non, ’e is quite all right. Just a little excited to meet new friends. You know how ’e likes meeting new people, Alex,” his wife chided.
“Hmm,” said the earl before turning back to Ranleigh. “Anyway, as I was saying, we’re on our way home. Care to join us?”
Ranleigh turned to Archie who nodded her approval. The earl and his wife were good friends of Ranleigh’s and had accepted her without question. She knew how rare and precious a gift that was and was only too happy to accept the invitation.
“Delighted to,” Ranleigh said, as the group fell into step and continued to stroll down the street, pausing occasionally to look in shop windows.
Both Archie and Ranleigh stopped in front of a display of men’s attire and a rather fabulous waistcoat of bright cerulean blue.
“Oh!” Archie said, taken at once by the glorious colour.
“I like that,” Ranleigh murmured at the same moment. They glanced at each other and Ranleigh laughed.
“Perhaps we can share it?”
Archie chuckled and shook her head. “No, you have it. The colour will suit you, and don’t you dare suggest we get matching ones,” she warned, her tone severe.
Ranleigh’s eyes danced, but he affected a pout instead. “Spoilsport.”
They were about to move on when the door to the next shop opened and Lady Lydia Fanshaw stepped out into the street, arm-in-arm with an older lady whose faded blonde hair and icy blue eyes were of the same stamp. Her mother, Archie concluded.
Ranleigh’s arm stiffened and he raised his hand to cover hers in a protective gesture before looking down at Archie, who remembered her promise to make the spiteful woman pay for hurting Ranleigh’s reputation. Not to mention trying to trap him into marriage.
“She’s not worth it,” he said, smiling at her. “You’re a duchess now, remember that. She’s green with envy.”
“She’s a nasty piece of work,” Archie said flatly. “And I’m still Archie, no matter what fancy title you attach to the name.”
Ranleigh’s lips quirked a little. “I thank heaven for that, love, but you don’t need to protect me, you know.”
Archie didn’t agree with that one bit. Ranleigh was too kind and forgiving for his own good, and she glared at the woman, who froze as she caught sight of them.
“My God,” the woman said, eyes wide with outrage. “You’d actually flaunt this… this freak… in broad daylight?”
“Damn you,” Ranleigh growled, fury in his voice. “If you weren’t a woman—”
“But she is,” Archie said, her tone hard as Lady Lydia’s disgusted expression turned upon her. “So you can’t touch her, darling.” She let go of Ranleigh’s arm and stepped closer, smiling. “Though I could.”
With slow, deliberate movements, she tugged off her leather gloves as the lady paled and took a step back.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, colour flooding her cheeks.
Archie shrugged. “Why ever not? I’ve nothing to lose. I’m a duchess, and a scandal. You can’t cut me from society. I am society.” She gave a disparaging laugh and shook her head, still amused at that idea. “Whatever that means, though I think I prefer to make a society of my own, one that you are not welcome in. Either way, I think I should warn you that I don’t care.”
Archie held her arms out and turned in a slow circle. She’d been very pleased with the dark blue coat which fitted her to perfection and the rather dazzling yellow waistcoat. Her Hessians shone with a mirror-like shine, and her cravat was tied to a nicety, after many hours of instruction from her husband.
“There’s nothing you can say to hurt me, Lady Lydia, but I tell you now, speak one more disrespectful word about my husband, and I will make a scandal the like of which you’ve never seen in your life, and I’ll make good and certain that you’re standing i
n the centre of it with me. I’ll survive it,” she said, holding the woman’s gaze. “Will you?”
The young woman was breathing very hard now and clutching at her mother, who was wide eyed with horror as she looked around at the Duke of Ranleigh, the Earl and Countess Falmouth, and Luther Blackehart.
“Come along, Lydia,” she said, tugging at her daughter’s arm. “We should go.”
Lydia stared at Archie with undisguised loathing, and in that moment, Archie realised Ranleigh had been right. This woman would never be happy, never be satisfied. She would go through life, bitter and envious and wanting more, spiting those around her for having it whether they did or not. It would never occur to her to be grateful that she had more than most.
Lydia Fanshaw deserved her pity, for she would continue to be Lady Lydia Fanshaw and that was something that Archie could not consider without a shudder.
As if to confirm Archie’s thoughts, and in a last act of defiance, Lydia raised her chin.
“Freak,” she said, audible enough for her voice to carry.
“Duchess,” Archie corrected, with a saccharine smile.
Lydia looked like she might combust with jealousy and outrage but tossed her blonde curls and allowed her mother to drag her away.
“Merde! What a salope.”
Everyone turned to look at Céleste, who had exclaimed this with outrage.
“What?” she demanded, looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “It’s true, n’est ce pas?”
Alex nodded, and took his wife’s hand. “I can’t disagree with a word,” he said, before giving Archie an approving nod. “You were rather magnificent, duchess.”
Archie blushed, more so as Céleste grinned at her and nodded her agreement.
“Magnifique,” she agreed, looking around at their assembled family and friends.
“I do rather like the idea of our own society I must say,” Falmouth added as they wandered down Bond Street once more.
“A society for gentlemen, and the ton’s most indomitable ladies,” Ranleigh said, tugging Archie’s arm so she moved closer to him.
Falmouth snorted. “Rogues and gentlemen, and the ton’s most indomitable ladies,” he corrected.
“Speak for yourself,” Blackehart murmured, as everyone roared with laughter.
***
Six months later …
Archie breathed in and fastened the buttons on her breeches. It was becoming more of an effort.
“Ranleigh,” she said, turning to watch as he concentrated on tying his cravat.
“Mmmm?” he said, frowning as he got to the tricky bit.
“I need to visit the tailor.”
“Again?” he replied, a little surprised. “Not that I mind,” he added, and then paused as his deft fingers arranged the stiff cloth with surety. “But you’ve got more coats and waistcoats and boots than I have. I’m supposed be the peacock around here, you remember?”
“Of course,” she said, moving behind him to slide her hands around his waist. “And I have no intention of stealing your feathery crown, darling. However, I… I need him to make a few adjustments.”
With a final tweak to the pristine white cravat, Ranleigh appeared satisfied and turned in her arms.
“Adjustments?” he queried, frowning a little.
Archie smiled. “Yes,” she said, feeling her heart beat a little faster.
She’d kept the knowledge to herself. Partly in case she was wrong, and partly because it had taken her a while to decide how she felt about it… other than terrified. Yet now a sense of peace had stolen over her and she felt nothing but pleasure in sharing her news with him, knowing what it meant.
“I’m getting fat,” she said, matter of fact as her lips twitched.
That drew a laugh from him. “Hardly,” Ranleigh said, bending to kiss her nose. “Though you did eat three slices of gingerbread last night before bed. Which is odd,” he said as an afterthought. “Because you hate….”
“Because I hate?” Archie said, watching his expression with anticipation.
“Gingerbread,” he said, going very still. “You hate ginger in anything.”
“I did,” she agreed. “But Cook said it was good for nausea, so….” Archie shrugged, seeing the dawning realisation in his eyes. “I seem to have developed a taste for it.”
Ranleigh swallowed, his breathing somewhat faster than it had been as he reached out and placed a hand over the growing curve of her stomach.
“Archie?”
She grinned at him, touched by the awe in his voice.
“Yes, Ranleigh?”
“You’re getting fat.”
“I am,” she agreed, nodding and then feeling her breath catch in her throat as he went to his knees before her. His hands moved to her waist and he stared up at her for a long moment before pulling her close and resting his head against her stomach.
“Oh, God, Archie. Darling. I… I’m so happy.”
She stroked his hair, blinking back tears as he held her and then turned his head, laughing and pressing kisses to her stomach. “A son or a daughter,” he said, the wonder in his words making the tears spill over with both happiness and apprehension.
Archie got to her knees, joining him on the floor, putting her arms around him and holding on tight.
“Ranleigh,” she said, her voice quiet. “What if it’s a girl? What if… if she’s like me?”
“Then she’ll be utterly perfect,” Ranleigh replied, drawing back to look her in the eyes, no doubt in his words.
Archie smiled, but knew it wasn’t as simple as that. “What if she doesn’t fit… into the world, into society.”
“We have our own society,” he reminded her, his voice stern. “And we’ll make our own world for her, or him, if that’s what it takes.”
Archie sighed, and nodded, knowing that whatever the child was, however it felt in its own skin, it would be perfect. He or she had a powerful father to protect them, and a mother who would help him change the world to fit them, and never the other way around.
Next in the Rogues & Gentlemen series....coming soon
The Scent of Scandal
Rogues & Gentlemen Book 16
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About Me!
I started this incredible journey way back in 2010 with The Key to Erebus but didn’t summon the courage to hit publish until October 2012. For anyone who’s done it, you’ll know publishing your first title is a terribly scary thing! I still get butterflies on the morning a new title releases but the terror has subsided at least. Now I just live in dread of the day my daughters are old enough to read them.
The horror! (On both sides I suspect.)
2017 marked the year that I made my first foray into Historical Romance and the world of the Regency Romance, and my word what a year! I was delighted by the response to this series and can’t wait to add more titles. Paranormal Romance readers need not despair however as there is much more to come there too. Writing has become an addiction and as soon as one book is over I’m hugely excited to start the next so you can expect plenty more in the future.
As many of my works reflect I am greatly influenced by the beautiful French countryside in which I live. I’ve been here in the South West for the past twenty years though I was born and raised in England
. My three gorgeous girls are all bilingual and the youngest who is only six, is showing signs of following in my footsteps after producing The Lonely Princess all by herself.
I’m told book two is coming soon ...
She’s keeping me on my toes, so I’d better get cracking!
KEEP READING TO DISCOVER MY OTHER BOOKS!
Other Works by Emma V. Leech
(For those of you who have read The French Fae Legend series, please remember that chronologically The Heart of Arima precedes The Dark Prince)
Rogues & Gentlemen
The Rogue
The Earl’s Temptation
Scandal’s Daughter
The Devil May Care
Nearly Ruining Mr. Russell
One Wicked Winter
To Tame a Savage Heart
Persuading Patience
The Last Man in London
Flaming June
Charity and the Devil
A Slight Indiscretion
The Corinthian Duke
The Blackest of Hearts
Duke and Duplicity
The Scent of Scandal (coming soon)
The Regency Romance Mysteries
Dying for a Duke
A Dog in a Doublet
The Rum and the Fox
Girls Who Dare
To Dare a Duke (March 29, 2019)
The French Vampire Legend
The Key to Erebus
The Heart of Arima
The Fires of Tartarus
The Boxset (The Key to Erebus, The Heart of Arima)
The Son of Darkness (TBA)
The French Fae Legend
The Dark Prince
The Dark Heart
The Dark Deceit
The Darkest Night
Short Stories: A Dark Collection.
Stand Alone
The Book Lover (a paranormal novella)
Audio Books!
Duke and Duplicity (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 15) Page 23